The Egyptian by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 4th, 2022 in Stories

This way, I met with princess Beketaten, and she saw me and spoke with me, and I was greatly impressed by her proud bearing and her lovely head. She asked after Horemheb and made fun of my friend and said, “Horemheb is of low birth, and his speech is rough, but if he took a wife, he might breed a noble family. Can you tell me, Sinuhe, why he has not taken a wife for himself?”

I said to her, “You are not the first to ask this, royal Beketaten, but for your beauty’s sake I will tell you what I have never dared tell anyone. When, as a boy, Horemheb came to the palace, he chanced to see the moon. Since then, he has been unable to look on any woman to break the jar with her. But how is it with you, Beketaten? No tree can bloom eternally, but the tree should also bear fruit, and as a physician I should rejoice to see your loins swell in fruitfulness.”

She tossed her head proudly and said, “You know very well, Sinuhe, that my blood is too sacred to be mingled even with the most distinguished blood of Egypt. Better it would have been for my brother to take me to wife, in accordance with good custom, and I should doubtless long ago have borne him a son. Were the power mine, I would have this Horemheb’s eyes put out, so degrading is it to think that he has dared to raise his eyes to the moon. I also say frankly to you, Sinuhe, that the very thought of men terrifies me, for their touch is coarse and shameful, and their hard limbs can crush a fragile woman. Therefore I believe the pleasure men give to women is greatly exaggerated.”

But her eyes began to glitter with excitement, and she breathed heavily as she spoke so that I perceived such talk gave her intense pleasure. So I encouraged her and said, “I have seen my friend Horemheb, by flexing his muscles, break a strong copper ring that was put around his arm. His limbs are long and graceful, and his chest resounds like a drum when he strikes it with his fist in anger. The court ladies pursue him meowing like cats, and he can do what he likes with anyone.”

Princess Beketaten looked at me with her painted mouth quivering and her eyes blazing and said fiercely, “Sinuhe, your words are exceedingly repugnant to me, and I do not know why you plague me with this Horemheb. He was born with dung between the toes, and even his name revolts me. I really do not know why must you talk thusly in the presence of the body of my dead mother.”

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I did not care to remind her who of us had first turned the conversation to Horemheb. I feigned repentance and said, “Oh, Beketaten, remain a flowering tree so that your body is not worn out, and you will blossom for many years to come. But didn’t your mother have any trusted lady-in-waiting who could weep and mourn by her body until the House of Death sends to fetch it, so that the paid professional weepers cry and pull their hairs around her. If I knew how to, I would weep myself, but I am a physician, and my tears ran dry long ago in the presence of death. Life is a hot day and death perhaps a cool night. Life is a shallow bay, Beketaten, and death perhaps the clear, deep water.”

She said, “Oh, speak not of death to me, Sinuhe, for life still tastes sweet in my mouth. But it indeed is shameful that there is no one to mourn beside my mother. I may not weep myself, for it is inconsistent with my dignity, and colour would run from my eye lashes and ruin the paint on my cheeks, but I will send for some court lady to weep with you, Sinuhe.”

I jested with her and said to her, “Divine Beketaten, your beauty has stirred me, and your speech has fed my fire with oil. Send me some old and ugly woman, that I be not tempted to seduce her in my frenzy, and so bring disgrace upon a house of mourning.”

She shook her head in rebuke and said, “Sinuhe, Sinuhe, have you no shame for the foolish things you say. Even if you do not fear the gods — as is said of you — you should at least feel respect for death.” But being a woman, she was not offended at my words and went away to fetch a lady of the court to weep by the body of her mother until the porters from the House of Death should arrive.

However, I had my reason for such godless talk next to a deceased and now waited impatiently for the arrival of a court lady, and she came and was older and uglier than I had dared to hope, for all the widows of the Queen Mother’s late husband still lived in the women’s house and

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